He didn't let her walk.
At some point, after her tears had quieted into fragile sniffles and exhausted breaths, Vastarael simply crouched in front of her without a word. He didn't ask. Asenane rolled her eyes weakly at first.
"I can walk."
"I know. It just seems romantic. Just play along, will you?"
She climbed onto his back anyway.
Now he walked steadily along the beach leading toward their house. Her arms wrapped loosely around his neck as her cheek rested against his shoulder. The world had shifted from late afternoon to early evening. From this angle, she could see everything. She hadn't realized how tired she was until she was elevated like this.
"You know, if you want to see my past, I'll show you."
He didn't slow down.
"I will, if you allow me to."
She shifted slightly against him, tightening her arms around his neck.
"You're not curious?"
"I am."
"That doesn't sound like it."
He exhaled lightly, almost amused by her tone.
"I don't remember most of my own past. I sometimes wonder why. Why are there gaps? Why are there entire stretches of my past existence I can't access? But I know there is a very good reason. If I can't see my own memories, what right do I have to demand to see yours?"
The wind brushed past them, tugging gently at her hair. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, quietly, she asked;
"Do you hold grudges against me?"
"No."
She frowned faintly against his shoulder.
"For taking your eyes and your heart?"
He chuckled softly. She felt the vibration of it through his back into her chest.
"I never did."
She pulled back slightly so she could see the side of his face.
"You should."
"I don't."
"I'm the reason you have this self-sacrificing personality. You're always throwing yourself into danger like it's nothing."
"I did not get that from you. If Phaenora told you that, she must have wanted you to feel more guilty. The trauma I endured in the Obsidian Runic Spire was nothing compared to sixty years of torture. I lost my heart and eyes. They performed surgery on my brain while I was awake as they tried to understand my immortality. They dissected me piece by piece and stitched me back together like some Frankenstein monster. Believe me my love, I endured far worse before I ever met you. No amount of suffering in Spheraphase compares to six decades of being a test subject in that facility."
The sunset deepened into darker shades of red.
"So to me, losing my heart and eyes was a minor inconvenience. Also, I have Body Reconstruction. It didn't matter much back then."
She stared at the side of his face when he said it was 'a minor inconvenience.' The absurdity of it almost made her laugh.
"You make it sound like you misplaced your keys."
"I recovered afterwards so I'm good."
"I'm sorry for making you suffer."
He turned his head slightly enough that she could see the faint curve of his lips.
"At least I got a cute mature dragon wife as payment."
"What?"
He shrugged slightly, adjusting her weight as he continued walking.
"It's a fair trade for the suffering I experienced."
"Why do you always say that? It's the other way around."
"Back on Earth, it's a man's dream to be loved dearly by a woman. For most men, having beautiful and sexy women is a bonus."
She rolled her eyes faintly, but didn't interrupt.
"Having a combination of all types of women who love you? That's a jackpot."
She lightly thumped his shoulder.
"You sound shameless."
"I have strong, intelligent, beautiful women who love me. Each of you are different and extraordinary. And right now, I have a sexy mature dragon wife on my back who acts cute with me."
Her face flushed immediately.
"I do not act cute."
"You cried earlier."
"That is not cute."
"It was to me. I'm not going to apologize for saying that."
She groaned softly and buried her face against his shoulder again.
"If anything, I am the luckiest man on Earth."
"We're not even on Earth."
"You understand the metaphor either way. I'm rich. I have two daughters. I have beloveds who care for me deeply. Out of all the Transmigrators who came to Spheraphase, out of all those in novels who struggle and bleed and lose everything, I am definitely the luckiest."
"I wish I could have a carefree mind like yours."
"You already do. You are simply too traumatized by your past to see it. If you want to get through it…"
He adjusted her slightly again as they approached the house.
"I am your therapist."
"You would be a terrible therapist."
"I'm already succeeding, right?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being here."
Her arms tightened around his neck again, this time from affection.
"I love you so much. I'm glad I married you."
"I love you too."
She frowned faintly against him.
"Why does it not sound more romantic when you say it?"
"Hey, I feel the same when you say it."
She hugged him tighter, pressing her face against his shoulder as if trying to hide the warmth creeping up her cheeks.
"You really don't know how lucky we are to have you."
He slowed down as they reached the entrance to their home.
"And you don't know how lucky I am to have you."
°°°°°°°
Steam curled upward from a pot, filling the air with the scent of spices and slow-cooked meat. The windows were cracked open just slightly. Vastarael stood at the stove with his sleeves rolled up slightly, stirring the soup. Asenane leaned against the counter a few steps away as she watched him.
"Did you find anything in the office?"
He didn't look up. "A lot, actually."
She pushed off the counter immediately.
"And you were just going to keep that to yourself?"
"I was going to tell you after dinner."
She walked over, peering into the pot. "What is that?"
"Soup."
She gave him a flat look.
"Yes, I can see that."
He lifted the ladle slightly, inspecting the consistency.
"You don't need to help."
"I wasn't helping."
"You were about to."
"You're acting like I'd burn the house down."
"You might."
She nudged him lightly with her elbow.
"Move."
"No."
She narrowed her eyes. "I can cook."
"I know."
"Then why are you not letting me?"
"Because you look like you need rest."
Her lips twitched faintly, but she didn't argue further. Instead, she leaned her back against the counter behind him and crossed her arms again.
"Fine. Talk."
He turned off the flame and let the pot simmer gently as he wiped his hands on a towel.
"The realm's name is Cassandra."
"That's convenient."
He reached for two bowls.
"Apparently, this place was a safe haven for Transmigrators millennia ago."
That got her attention.
"Safe haven?"
He placed the bowls down carefully.
"When Vasreveilder Nov Aeteria constructed the Hidden Citadel with his Omniscient partner, he created a separate realm apart from the main eight. That realm was Cassandra, the one we are currently in."
"So this island isn't just some random pocket dimension."
"No."
He poured the soup smoothly into the bowls.
"It was designed as a vacation realm for Transmigrators from the eight realms."
"You're telling me this was basically a divine resort."
"Yes."
"That is absurd."
"Oh it gets better."
He handed her a spoon but kept his own bowl in hand.
"The Mayor system wasn't symbolic. The town was governed by an elected official every ten years."
Asenane took a slow sip and hummed quietly at the taste.
"And who helped build it? Your grandfather definitely had someone help him construct a realm, right? Reynolds helped him make the Central Station and Ledatic Siliportem."
"A Transmigrator who held the Split of Creation."
"I thought only you, Ely and Narisva were the only Splits in Spheraphase."
He took his own sip calmly.
"Greshina Emberforge held the Split of Death back on Earth."
"You think she still does?"
"Possibly."
She leaned back against the counter again, thinking.
"So this Split of Creation…"
"Was called Cassandra."
"The realm is named after her?"
"Yes. He's a man. According to historical records, he is an immortal Transmigrator who resides within the volcanic mountain."
"You're serious."
"Very."
She let out a breath through her nose. "So we're on an island vacation realm named after a mythical immortal Transmigrator who lives inside a volcano."
"Yes."
She shook her head slightly, then took another sip.
"You're too calm about this."
"Transmigrators from all eight realms came here regularly. For millennia, it became a symbol of neutrality. And then, it closed itself. The records become fragmented after a certain era. Visits stopped. The realm was isolated."
She stared down into her bowl.
"And the Split of Creation?"
"He became a myth. No one saw him for millennia. Historians began to treat him as legend rather than fact."
"That's suspicious."
He walked over to the window slightly and glanced out at the horizon.
"The island is much larger than I initially assumed. The town occupies approximately ten percent of the landmass."
"And the rest?"
"The forest and the volcanic mountain."
She followed his gaze instinctively toward the distant silhouette barely visible in the fading light.
"You're thinking he's still alive."
"Yes."
She set her bowl down slowly.
"And tomorrow?"
"We go camping."
"You're joking."
"No."
"You think we're just going to walk into a forest that occupies ninety percent of a possibly ancient Transmigrator realm and casually locate the immortal Split of Creation?"
"Yes."
"And if he's hostile?"
"We kill him. And then we will enjoy the vacation."
She stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head slightly in disbelief.
"You're insane."
"I thought you knew that."
He stepped closer and held up the spoon toward her mouth.
"Try another sip."
"Are you feeding me?"
"Yes."
She hesitated only a second before leaning forward and accepting it. The warmth spread pleasantly through her.
"It's good."
"Thank you for saying that because this was not easy to make."
She smiled faintly, then stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
"It's cute seeing you act like this."
"I have always been like this."
"No. You're cuter. I'm going to prepare for tomorrow."
"Don't overpack."
She rolled her eyes.
"I won't. Even though I've never tried camping, I know how to pack for a journey."
As she walked out of the kitchen, the house grew quiet again. Vastarael stood there for a moment longer, holding the spoon loosely in his hand. He exhaled slowly. There was one thing he hadn't told her buried deep within the fragmented records he had uncovered.
The reason the town was empty wasn't because of abandonment. A tribe that existed deep within the forest had wiped them out.
He already had a suspicion about who that tribe was. The patterns aligned too well. The timeline was too precise. He only needed one piece of confirmation and everything would fall into place. He stared out at the silhouette of the volcanic mountain against the darkened sky.
"Time really is a bitch. Thyrexxa, you owe me a fucking explanation next time we meet."